Forgotten
by Moore12
Summary: A collection of short stories featuring Jesse. Get inside his head to understand how he feels about his life and how Kate's illness has impacted him through separate incidents. Rated T for safety. More stories will be added when you R&R! Chapter 3 up!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I have NOT read the book _My Sister's Keeper_. I recognize that I am posting this under the book page but, due to a possible oversight, there is no page to post stories on _My Sister's Keeper _the movie. This story is based on the MOVIE which I DON'T own. So please don't post comments saying that it's not true to the book because it's not based on the book. I would have posted under the movie but there is nowhere to post, so I'm posting here.

Reviews are welcome. This is my first serious fanfiction in a very long time, so please review! I greatly appreciate it.

~Moore12~

**Forgotten **

He felt lost even though he knew exactly where he was. Sitting there, watching the hookers walk by in their cheap perfume and gaudy outfits, he didn't think about much of anything. The noise was welcomed—the chatter of human voices, the sound of car horns—because it made him feel less empty, less alone. The irony, he knew, was that, even though there were people about—though they wandered by only occasionally—he was all alone.

Night time was the loneliest time for Jesse Fitzgerald. That was why he fled to the depths of the inner city, why he sat on that same street corner after eating at the same rather shady takeout restaurant night after night when he wasn't at the hospital with the rest of his family. He had to escape everything somehow. Sometimes he wished that his pain, his frustration, and his emptiness would just vanish, but he knew that couldn't happen. These feelings defined him, had defined him for so long, and he didn't know what he would be without them.

He checked his watch and realized with a start that he was late for the bus. Cursing himself for losing track of time—something that never seemed to happen because every second lasted an eternity to him—he got up and ran faster than he ever had before to catch it before it left him there alone for good. The only sound he heard was the pounding of his sneakers on the sidewalk, and he knew if he didn't make it he was dead. His mom would probably accuse him of not caring about his sister; his dad would berate him for causing trouble that the family didn't need. Neither, he was certain, would be angry that he put himself in danger.

To his surprise and joy, the bus was sitting at the bus stop. Jesse felt a wave of genuine relief wash over him, but, in the few seconds that it took him to reach the bus stop, the doors began to shut, and that relief was replaced with great panic. He skidded to a stop in front of the closed doors—sealed shut, he already knew—and started banging on them desperately, hoping that the driver would take pity on him and let him in. The bus rolled away—the driver seemingly unaware of his existence—and he was left standing there all alone like usual. Story of my fucking life, he thought, too numb inside to be miserable.

As he hitchhiked, hopelessly standing there on the side of the road in the dead of night, he had to wonder what Kate would think about all this because he already knew what his parents would think. Would she think that he selfishly abandoned her or would she understand why he had to run away from home every night only to return before his absence was noted? Would she think that all of this was somehow her fault? Jesse honestly hoped that this wouldn't be the case because it wasn't true. None of this was her fault, and she never wanted all the attention. He knew that. She hadn't meant him any harm, hadn't meant to steal—no, steal wasn't the right word—take all the attention.

A car slowed to a stop before him, and the window rolled down to reveal the first friendly faces he had seen in ages. It was a middle aged man, and in the passenger seat was a middle school aged boy. Both were wearing Los Angeles Dodgers hats, and Jesse realized, with a pang of regret, that they had probably been at the game. "Get in," the man said kindly.

Sitting in the backseat of the car, he couldn't understand why his memories—pushed to the depths of his mind while sitting on the street corner—began to haunt him again. He could remember clearly the day the doctors poked and prodded him with needles after Kate was diagnosed in hopes of discovering if he was a match. He could remember the look of sheer, unhidden disappointment on his mom's face when the doctors said he wasn't. Burning resentment tore through him, and he bit his lip to keep from screaming, from crying. The expression on his mom's face haunted him more than any of the other memories.

Even though he was young then, it was in that moment he realized that his mom would never care about him again. "Do your parents know where you are?" The man's voice tore him from his terrible thought, and he was thankful for it even though he didn't want to answer any pointed questions.

"Yes, sir," he answered quickly, knowing that the man would never believe him but not really caring. The truth was, if he felt like telling the truth which he didn't, that they never seemed to know where he was. They only kept track of Anna, and that was because she was considered to be an important member of the family for what he felt were all the wrong reasons.

"Then why are you hitchhiking, son?"

He started to answer him, but his words caught in his throat. This complete stranger, who had never even known of his existence before he decided to pick him up off the side of the road, had called him "son." The word seemed foreign and strange to Jesse, and its use choked him up because he couldn't remember the last time either of his parents had used it.

"Are you alright?"

Catching himself, Jesse muttered, "I missed the bus and don't have a ride." He glanced out the window, hoping to see some familiar sites so the ride could reach its completion and stop dragging up his painful memories and realized he was close to his house. "Here is good, sir," he said, and the man stopped the car, and he got out.

"Thanks," he said, hoping he sounded sincere, as he slammed the door shut. He watched sadly, surprised that he was allowing himself to feel anything, as the car rolled away. Knowing he couldn't just stand there and wallow in his self pity, he rushed up the street to his house, hoping that by some miracle he wouldn't get in any trouble.

He let himself inside once he got there and, upon turning the corner, was confronted by his dad. Shit, he thought. I'm dead. His dad looked him up and down and said, without a hint of suspicion or anger in his voice, "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

Jesse froze and stared at him, feeling a mixture of misery and relief. "Yeah," he said, his voice sounding so far away and fake to him—as if it wasn't even his. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't even know I was gone, Jesse thought bitterly. He's just like mom… Well, at least I'm not in trouble.

"I'm going down to the hospital to be with your sister, you coming?" he then asked, completely unaware that only minutes ago his only son had been sitting in the backseat of a stranger's car on his way home after hitchhiking on the side of the road at night.

"Yeah," he answered after once again catching himself about to cry. He never felt more alone and lost in his life, but, as usual, he hid it from the world and did the one thing that his family expected of him: support his sister.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to girlnextdoor14 for reviewing! To everybody who's reading this – please review. I love hearing what you think! Thanks! ~Moore12~ _

**Alone **

Sitting in the hospital that night, he tried to think back to a time when his family was genuinely happy but found that he couldn't. I know we had to have been happy once, he thought, as he sat in the waiting area of the hospital, a cup of lukewarm coffee in his hand. I just can't remember it. Exhausted, though unable to sleep himself, he glanced over at his sister's room and saw that both Kate and his dad were fast asleep. To Jesse, it felt like this was the first moment in too long that his family was actually sharing a peaceful moment.

He had to wonder, though, if the peace would last (even though he already knew that this peace wasn't real anyway—but at least it was something). When they first entered Kate's room, she was murmuring something about wanting to go to the beach—which the nurse said she had been doing all day. His dad, staring down at his sister with an expression of love and sadness on his face, had decided right then to take her to the beach—regardless of any of the consequences—Jesse knew. He could tell by the look on his face—that firm, resolute and sad look—and he could tell because he knew his father well enough to know that he'd spring to do anything he could to help his daughter. Even if it could tear the family apart…

Everything was quiet and oddly still which made Jesse feel even more uncomfortable than he already felt. He hated silence, hated how, in the middle of the night, the hospital could feel so much like a morgue, and he wanted to run away so badly—just escape everything like he usually was able to by going into the city. A nurse walked by, not even stopping to glance at him, on her way to check on Kate, and he shifted in his seat, glad that he wasn't the only person awake at this ungodly hour. The silence, he felt, was slowly killing him.

But we had to have been happy once, Jesse thought, racking his memory for something that could prove this. We just had to. Part of him realized why he couldn't think of anything while the other part struggled to comprehend why no happy memories surfaced right away. When being honest, he knew instantly why he couldn't think of anything.

He was scared. He was scared because he hated hospitals because, to him, all they represented was death. He was scared because the family was in town, and they never saw them unless a tragedy was looming. He was scared because he couldn't do anything to stop it from happening—he never had any control of anything, including his own life, he felt—and because he felt so damn helpless. The fear was preventing him from seeing the light in their situation.

He was torn from his thoughts when a group of nurses rushed by, and a knot formed in his throat. For a moment, he thought they were on their way to his sister's room—that this was finally it, she was going to die—but they passed the room by and kept running. Sighing with genuine relief, he slowly opened his bag that he brought with him whenever he went to the hospital—or anywhere where he would be left alone, actually—and took out the painting he was working on.

When he took it out and looked it over, he couldn't help but think back to the moment he first presented it to Kate. In a rare moment of courage—fostered by the fact his mom wasn't in the room with her—he had gone into her hospital room. It was something he rarely did because he couldn't bear to see her like that, but, for some reason, he knew he had to do it; he had to show her what he had been working on for so long.

Kate had looked very surprised to see him, but he had been relieved to see that she was happy to see him and that his presence wasn't alarming her—sometimes he felt that his being in the room must upset her because he only entered if something was really wrong because it made him so damn uncomfortable. "Jesse?" she said, a smile beginning to form on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"I made you something," he had said, retrieving the painting from his bag and handing to her, trying to hide how uneasy he was feeling and be strong for her. He just knew, somehow, that this gesture was very important, and he wasn't about to let his fear stand in his way—he would be strong even if he was scared.

"Is this me?" she asked, looking at his work with a glowing smile on her face—a smile, Jesse thought, with a pang of regret, he would be able to see more often if she was normal like him.

"Yeah," Jesse smiled at her—a real, genuine smile because he was so happy she liked it, that he had finally found a way to brighten her day—and continued, "I'm not done with it yet but…"

The memory felt so real that, for a moment, he felt less alone. But the memory slowly faded as he sat there, alone as always, and—to counteract this feeling that was threatening to swallow him—he took out some of his pencils carefully and began to work on his piece again.

By the time the sun was rising—he could just barely see it out the small window at the end of the hall but it still looked so beautiful to him, so hopeful—he had finished his work and realized why his dad wanted to take Kate to the beach so badly. It made perfect sense to him all of a sudden because he knew he was doing the same thing by painting her the picture, by offering her the one thing he could possibly offer her—his one talent—to make her feel better.

And, as he sat there all alone waiting for Dr. Chance to arrive so he could tell him his dad's plan and play his bit in making Kate happy, he felt less alone and less helpless than ever.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey, guys. Hope you enjoy this. With this section, I decided to look at an underplayed theme in the movie. I hope you like it and please R&R. Oh, and I tried to do less telling and more showing so you can make the decision about why he did what he did. Enjoy! _

**Lost Cause?**

It was easier than he thought. He walked in and he walked out—no questions asked, no answers given. Even at home, his announcement was met only with muted surprise. Maybe they thought he was joking—he didn't know. But, almost as soon as he made it, his parents turned their attention back to more important matters: Kate. And, as he sat at the kitchen table fading back into the background again, he scolded himself. Stupid Jesse, he thought bitterly. Did you really think they would give a damn?

Suddenly, he was a high school dropout. And nobody seemed to care. The only one who seemed to notice he had apparently given up on his future was Anna. During the first week of his newfound "freedom" (if he could really call it that), she asked him, "Are you sure about this?"

When she asked that question (the only one that he would get regarding his decision), they were sitting alone at the kitchen table. Their mom was, as usual, at the hospital with Kate, and their dad was working to pay the bills. Anna, fortunately for Jesse (who loved to have some company), had the day off due to a faculty in-service day. And, honestly, he didn't know how to answer her question. Part of him really did want to go back to school, and the other part kept asking him what does it matter? So he only muttered indignantly, "Jeez, Anna, I got it under control. You don't learn jack shit at school anyway."

Anna didn't seem to know how to answer his surprising outburst—just like he didn't know how to answer her difficult question—because she just sat there with a stunned look on her face. But then she ordered, sounding more like an adult than an 11 year old, "Jesse, you need to stay in school."

Glaring at her, Jesse stood up and growled, "Well, take it up with Mom and Dad then. Because I really don't see the fucking point." With that, he left Anna sitting alone at the table to go lie on his bed and wonder if his little sister was right after all. For the first time, he really doubted his decision.

But, in the end, he couldn't see the point of sticking with it, even after racking his brain for hours. The only memories he was able to pull about school were painful—being laughed at because of his dyslexia, getting all those pitying stares from his teachers, turning his grades around for nothing. No, he would stick to his art, not that anybody noticed he had that gift either. School, well, school wasn't working out for him, but at least he had something. It was more than some people had, after all.

Many days, he'd take Anna to school on the bus. He did, after all, have all the time in the world to. Some days, she'd look at him as if to ask, are you ever going back? Well, sis, he'd think, if I were, you'd be the first and only to know. After dropping her off, the days would pass slowly, regardless of where he would spend them. Usually, he would hang around the house (using his art to not notice how empty it was) or the hospital. When he first started going to the hospital during the day, he'd always endure the stares that questioned why he wasn't at school, but that lasted only a few days. They, like everybody else, didn't really care about what would become of Jesse Fitzgerald. What they also didn't care about? That it hurt. It hurt like hell.

_Sorry it's so short. I thought it would ruin it to make it any longer. So, I hope you liked it, and please review! I love to hear what you think. ~Moore12~ _


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